


High School Really Isn't My Forte

by antpelts



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Jealousy, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, Multi, Polyamory, Queer Themes, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Character, Typical High School Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antpelts/pseuds/antpelts
Summary: Gavin Free found himself uprooted from his life in England -- moving to Austin, Texas to start his Freshman year of high school. He had a bit of trouble finding out what was fresh about the whole ordeal. Being in a new area his parents encouraged him to try and join a sport or club, while being a bit behind Gavin found himself drawn to the school's marching band. So what if he missed band camp, or had never formally learned an instrument? America was a land of opportunity. So he was going to take the opportunity to learn to march a trumpet. Soon enough a curly-haired baritone player and a tanned alto sax player found themselves gravitating to the Brit. Their trio evolved to six -- then more. Band kids with a video game club on the side. America had a lot more than Gavin could prepare himself for.





	1. Chapter 1

By the end of September Gavin Free could do a roll step correctly at least 80% of the time. As for his trumpet playing skills, well, he could hit at least six notes consistently. Though Ryan, a Sophomore who wore the most dad-like jeans he'd ever seen, had taken time in their sectionals to remind Gavin what fingerings gave him which notes.

Despite his initial meetings with most of the band kids he easily found a group of people who he believed he could call a friend; and regardless of the playful arguing the Freshman liked to take part in he was already growing confident that he had a coveted friend-group forming.

"Earth to Gavin," Ray muttered, sticking out his foot to knock his shoe lightly against the Brit's shin. The band was gathered in a haphazard circle around their band director, listening as they were being told the typical spiel, with an upcoming competition they would have an extra practice the coming week, needing to get at least their first movement down, but it seemed like everyone was hopeful for more. Gavin inwardly winced, knowing he definitely should've been listening, he was a daydreamer, but being new to the scene the Brit was well aware he'd need at least enough effort put in to fake it until he could memorize music and dots.

But for now he had a bit of time. Due to a late arrival to the program there hadn't been an open dot for him, so he was doubled with Ryan Haywood. At first the Freshman had been intimidated, it wasn't like he was short but Ryan definitely wasn't either. Besides, the Sophomore knew a startling amount about knives.

There he went again - Ray just rolled his eyes, fiddling with the buttons on his saxophone, just waiting to have the practice wrap up so he could go home. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, the school lot they practiced on was lit only by street lamps now. Besides it was Friday, Friday night! Over the first two months of school Fridays had become a sort of game night for Ray, most of the time he was joined by Michael and Gavin, the three would crash in Ray's basement, a game's idle music on loop in the background. It wasn't unusual that they would play a few races in Mario Kart before they got annoyed - or that Gavin would convince them to boot up Peggle and battle for a few levels.

This Friday was no different than the others, since the practices had been running late Gavin and Michael had been ahead of the game, alongside instrument cases they had their backpacks ready. 

With the impromptu meeting adjourned the three lads moved to pack their instruments into their cases. They moved away from their sections to walk back towards the door to the band room to get themselves ready to leave. As they walked, fitting three across on the sidewalk, Michael's euphonium case bumped into Gavin's side due to the closeness. 

* * *

 

The night was calming, as the lads piled into Ray's mom's minivan their joking was subdued, but not quite tired. Gavin found himself leaning back, watching the moon through the window as he absentmindedly nudged his foot against Michael's in an uneven rhythm. A crooked grin crossed his face as the Brit heard his curly-haired friend share some banter with Ray. He found himself comfortable, eyes flitting back and forth as he watched the grass along the side of the road, eyes unable to keep up with how fast they were moving. Gavin found himself thinking about his friends, turning his head to shift his attention to Michael, watching the lines of his face as he sputtered laughter. He thought about all their silly fights, about movies or games, or commonly: what was better, treble or bass clef? Ray very easily took Gavin's side, along with Ryan when they asked for his input. Michael called bullshit - of course another trumpet player would say treble was better. So the fiery Freshman sought out Geoff Ramsey, the trombone player who was well on his way to earn section leader the next year, as a Junior he'd have more respect. With Geoff's obvious answer of bass clef Michael had still found himself outnumbered, seeking out more support in another Freshman. His neighbor and long time friend Lindsay Tuggey, a die hard fan of her tuba, was most definitely on his side. Gavin had earned a temporary victory in the end, asking Jack who was practically the last of their immediate friend group. He'd almost decided to stay neutral just from the look Geoff gave him, the redheaded flute definitely had a weak spot for his best friend. However, he did find Geoff's annoyance highly amusing when he'd decided to side with Gavin.

Since that argument Michael swore he'd make more low winds friends just to get back at Gavin.

Gavin was brought back to the world of the conscious as they hit a small pothole, blinking a few times in succession to focus his eyes back on the dark car. He settled on Ray's face as he sat turned towards him and Michael in the back, dark hair and tanned skin made it hard for Gavin to make out his facial features in the dark.

"-don't even remind me Michael, have you heard the alto part at that measure. It's brutal," Ray just barely bit back a curse, very suddenly remembering his mom was sitting next to him. Sophomore year seemed so far off, he just wanted to be able to drive himself, then he could swear as much as he wanted while driving. If his video game induced swearing was anything to go off of he would not hold back once he was by himself behind the wheel.

"My dot there is worse than the music. I feel like half my d- vision is blocked by my baritone! Then I gotta move  _backwards_ and  _diagonally_ my bell covers like..80% of the left side!" Michael threw his hands up a bit, he cut it a bit closer with the swearing but Ray's mom merely smiled to herself as she pulled into their garage. She knew her son, if his friends were anything like him she knew they definitely swore. As long as they kept themselves in check for the most part she didn't feel like she had to step in.

"At least you two don't have a bloody horn angle. My arms feel ready to fall off all the time!" Michael merely laughed at that, hopping out of the car and looking back at Gav. After the Brit hopped out the same door he shut it, the two following Ray's lead up to his house.

"Yeah, I'm real glad I didn't swing for the marching baritone. My baby's perfectly fine. Even if it feels kinda big." Ray decided against a lewd comment, still aware of his mom's presence as the four of them entered his house.

"Yeah boi - I mean those things are way heavier than my horn, but - have you been workin' out. Bloody looks like you could lift anything," Gavin broke into a bought of chuckles, reaching out to playfully squeeze at Michael's bicep. The Jersey-born kid rolled his eyes, half a grin playing over his lips as he swatted the Brit's hand away.

"God, what are you? Boyfriends?" Ray rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, nudging his shoes off by the door. Gavin felt himself falter, covering it up as he ducked down to half unlace his shoes before toeing them off. 

"Oh yeah Ray, you missed it. We're more than bois now," Michael started towards the basement, swinging opening the door as he started to hop down the stairs. A signature Michael Jones laugh sounded from him, fading as he reached the basement. Following more slowly were Ray and Gavin, the shorter teen elbowed the Brit lightly in the ribs.

"Aw, come on. You guys took it further without me?"

The lines in their relationship had started to blur, Gavin's stomach did a flip. Instead of trying to formulate a response he merely laughed, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with Michael. When his feet hit the ground he saw his boi already booting up the Xbox. It wasn't like any of their jokes or banter made him uncomfortable - in fact it was virtually the opposite. He loved it. For such a touchy, emotional person under his flippant facade these interactions could be downright heavenly. Watching Ray pull Red Bulls from the mini fridge and Michael moving to bunch pillows together on the sofa (he didn't bother with blankets, while the basement was cool it  _was_ summer in Texas), it just felt ... domestic. The way Michael stuck out his hand, accepting the Red Bull that was offered to him, fingertips brushing Ray's hand, the smile that was almost always on his lips around his friends.

Gavin Free was only two months into his Freshman year. He didn't knowshit aboutshit. There were two things he could tell someone with absolute certainty. One: Michael had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen but it tied with the way Ray's laugh sounded when he just couldn't stop. And two: no amount of posters of hot girls in his room could stop him from letting his thoughts wander to his best friends while he lied in bed trying to sleep. Well - he definitely knew a third thing: he was screwed.

* * *

 

Four hours into the night the Red Bull really wasn't cutting it. Ray sat on the right of the couch, furthest from Gavin who was on the left. The Puerto Rican was leaning his chin heavily onto his hand, eyelids drooping. Michael was mashing buttons on an Xbox controller, he seemed to be the most awake. On the other end of the couch Gavin was sprawled out, legs settling on Michael's lap as he leaned back, playing on his phone. A sudden feeling rushed over him and he scrolled through his contacts, finger hovering over Ryan's contact before he decided they weren't close enough. Instead he decided on Geoff.

The Brit was definitely close to his fellow Freshman, but in no time at all Geoff Ramsey had become an almost older brother to him. If he could text anyone right now it would be him. Besides, despite it being past midnight he was sure the Sophomore would be awake.

**To: Geoffrey**  
geoff?? u up???

**From: Geoffrey**  
if i wasn't i am now. something happen?

Gavin could almost feel the slight air of annoyance he knew Geoff must be radiating. But the question said it all - even if Gavin was annoying as hell Geoff cared about him. A brief moment of panic flashed over the Brit, Michael was none the wiser, eyes glued to the TV. Ray seemed to finally have passed out, drooling a bit on his hand. It had never come up before but if Gavin fessed up about his crush he was pretty sure Geoff would roll with the fact that not only did he like a boy, he liked  _two_.

**To: Geoffrey  
** nothing happened

**To: Geoffrey  
** i guess i wanted advice?? or to just tell you something?

**From: Geoffrey  
** well spill it. believe it or not i was going to go to bed. 

**To: Geoffrey  
** i think i like boys

**To: Geoffrey  
** i take it back

**To: Geoffrey  
** i really bloody like boys

Gavin's eyes flickered up from his phone screen continuously. Partly because the brightness was becoming abrasive, partly because he didn't want Michael to take his attention off the game and start asking him what he was doing. It wasn't like he thought coming out to Michael (or Ray) would be bad. But there was no way it would be easy to tell two boys you found extremely pretty that you liked boys.

**From: Geoffrey  
** yup. michael or ray?

**To: Geoffrey  
** asasfhjjk geoff!!!! seriously????

**From: Geoffrey  
** your mind is definitely not a steel trap buddy. coming from someone else who likes boys (and girls) it's very obvious you have the hots for someone.

**To: Geoffrey  
** well i dont know!! theyre both so!!!!

The subtle coming out put Gavin more at ease, he knew Geoff must've know how the Brit was feeling - must have know the confession would make him feel more normal.

**From: Geoffrey  
** alright yeah. i'm too tired for advice right now. talk to me when it's not nearly morning. or google it yourself.

Gavin relaxed back into the couch, locking his phone. At the loud huff of a sigh Michael turned his attention, much like a cat who'd heard a bag rustle. The day had caught up with the Jersey boy, he definitely looked tired. No words were shared between them, just looks, but it was enough to organize them reorienting themselves and Ray's sleeping form. Soon enough they were curled up on the floor on a cushioning of blankets. Ray had barely stirred, though he stretched out now that he was granted the room.

Sometime in the night Michael's legs tangled with the short Puerto Rican's, and on his other side somehow he'd ended up with his head leaned up against Gavin's side, the Brit's arm partially around him.


	2. Chapter 2

For at least ten minutes Gavin had been trying to hold still - with sunlight casting over his body and his arm being crushed under Michael's shoulders he wasn't exactly comfortable anymore. But once he'd peeked through his eyelashes he'd seen a sight that made his breath catch. Michael's hair caught the sunlight, lighting up auburn, lips parted as he breathed. With a few blinks his vision had focused enough for Ray's form to become more than a blur, his glasses sat crooked on his nose. A few lines had been pressed against his face from the hard plastic and Gavin found himself smiling. The feeling washing over him felt like something he'd hadn't expected to feel so young. This was more like being in his late twenties - newly married. He'd wake up and turn his head to see sunlight washing over his lover's face, sheets bunched around their bodies.

Suddenly the warmth wasn't only from the sun, or Michael's body, his cheeks lit up and he scrambled, rolling his body away from the Jersey boy he was practically attached to. A grunt was heard from behind him and in his peripheral he saw his friend shift and turn, knees knocking against Ray's.

 _'what to do when both of your friends are really cute'_  
  
showing results for -

* * *

Everything was the same as always, after they'd all woken up on Saturday they fell back into routine. They had Red Bull for breakfast and a few rounds of Mario Kart before Michael's mom showed up to pick up her son and Gavin. The Brit spent the rest of his weekend in a confused blur, between Yahoo Answers and Wiki pages he'd started piecing various things together. Words that felt too complex in his mouth, labels that made him feel as if he was jumping to conclusions within his own self.

But Monday.

Monday was clear, simple, the same,  _normal_. In English Gavin braved Michael's assault of balled up paper bouncing off his head and getting caught in his gelled hair. More than once they'd received warnings to knock it off, it was only September and it seemed that the both of them had already reached the level of disconnection that should have come with Thanksgiving break. Really, that was normal for Michael, the disconnection came far too easily. It wasn't like he was unable to get through school, it just bored him. It was hours of his day that he could spend getting invested in things - hands on things - building computers or learning about weird, interesting things. English was heavy and repetitive, verb adverb verb adjective adjective verb noun. Halfway through his worksheets he'd get frustrated, filling in random answers, completing sentences with complete bullshit answers.

Gavin was very aware of this - very aware of Michael. He'd reach over with a foot, bumping their ankles together before he snatched Michael's paper. With focused hands he'd match Michael's scrawl, tweaking his answers just enough.

Now, Gavin didn't find school any more tolerable than Michael, or more than any other teenager at all. But if he could smooth the crease in the Jersey boy's brow and relax his shoulders he'd be happy to do it. Oddly enough though, while the Brit was so open about the action of helping Michael he'd deny that it carried any emotional weight, keeping himself aloof and distant in the strangest of ways. Whether it was some sort of self-defense mechanism or just how out of touch he was with his own self was up in the air. Though, Geoff would tell anyone with certainty that Gavin was just an asshole. 

In the Brit's hand the pencil stopped moving, against his free-will his brows drew together as he dwelled on it. He didn't really think he was an asshole, but it was what he did. He was distant and disconnected most of the time, refusing to look his emotions in the eye. There were days though, days where Michael could sit down and look you in the eye as he spoke on and on about how Gavin was his  _boi_. A grin would light up his face, eyes crinkling at the corner as he laughed and joked about the twiggy boy with a big nose. But there were days where Michael's anger felt real - a hard look locked on Gavin, Michael's shoulders tensed as he stomped rather than walking as he yelled about the same twiggy boy with the big nose.

A brush of fingers brought Gavin back down to Earth, his eyes came back into focus, auburn curls over round cheeks dotted with pale freckles. A feeling of lightheadedness washed over him, the lights of Michael's face too bright, sending him reeling. "Hey - boi, my place this weekend?"

The words fell from Gavin's lips before he could think over the choice. It was open-ended, most weekends were at Ray's house, the lads, all together. But when the other Freshman smiled at him it was apparent it would be the two of them. It was partly a shame, Gavin  _liked_ Ray. Gavin really liked Ray. To the Brit, Michael and Ray were two beams of sunlight, falling over his body, warming his insides as if he were a cat resting beside a window. But there were parts of Gavin that just chose Michael, time and time again. Another sense of dread started to seep into him, filling him up as his mind wandered, some deep part of him felt like it wanted to pick Michael. The thoughts were unnecessary, no one was making him choose, he shouldn't have to choose. But ... what if, what if, what if. How could a single question suddenly make a kid feel so guilty?

Michael smiled - his grin was wide and toothy. Gavin hoped that Ray didn't want to have them over, considering they still had a marching competition that weekend. Some invasive part of his heart hoped that Ray wouldn't approve of Gavin's arising nature, of his willingness to date openly (the word polyamorous was still scary). The better half of him hoped Ray would be okay with it. The logical half of him begged him to stop thinking as if he'd already had a hold of Michael's heart. The childish romantic part of his heart asked if maybe he wanted a soulmate, duo, if he wanted that in Michael. The confused part wondered if he was making competition between Michael and Ray in his head because he wanted to be fought over. The scared part wondered if he was trying to use Ray to project the idea of being wanted.

The whole, sensible part of Gavin Free knew he was just an asshole.

* * *

By Wednesday Ray hadn't breathed a word about their lad hangout - by that point Gavin was simply relieved. All the sax's focus went into memorizing his part, he didn't seem off, just in his hyper focused mindset. That was best case scenario in the Brit's head, he didn't want the Puerto Rican to mull over it, questioning any motive behind Gav's choice.

"- right, Gav?" Ryan's voice shook Gavin from his thoughts, the Brit turned a bit to look up at the other trumpet. The furrowed brows were enough to tell Ryan that his question had gone unheard. "I was checking if you had that part with the triplets down. I know you just joined, wasn't sure if you knew how to play triplets. Since were splitting into sectionals -" the Sophomore broke off his rambling, his point was clear enough.

"Oh uh, well not really? I kinda know but..switchin' between the notes is harder, innit," the Brit puffed up his cheeks a bit, giving a half frown, a roundabout way of accepting Ryan's offer to help. With the trumpets sprawled throughout the auditorium they set up shop towards the back, reclined in some seats.

"..so if I gave you one mil, Ry, would you eat all your food as a smoothie from then on?"

The idea of practice floated away from the two as they laughed, Gavin putting his heels up on the chair in front of him. One glance around told him the other trumpets were basically doing the same, card games, phone games, napping. Maybe it was the auditorium, they were closed off and able to get away with more. Maybe it was just how trumpets were. Regardless Gav pressed into his seat, giggling as Ryan wondered about the logistics of his idiotic scenarios.

The night seemed slow, practice was a few hours and rain had forced them to stop marching at one point, well it was more the lightning. Either way, most of the rehearsal was turned into a sectional, maybe in the last twenty minutes they'd regroup and run a few songs. But until then Gavin was content, squawking hysterically as Ryan recounted tales of him, Geoff, and Jack. His voice was warm, less like the threatening guy the Brit had met at his first marching band practice. 

"Ry," Gavin let his volume lower for once, brows briefly bunching up as he paused between words, "d'you think like..uh, is it weird to like more than one person? Like everyone like dates one person, right? But what if..you don't want just one person?" After a brief silence, before Ryan could speak, he butted back in, "not like I want to marry three girls who hate each other. More along the lines of..uh, um, you find two guys really attractive." It was a nerve-wracking silence, though the Brit had no reason to believe the Sophomore would react poorly to the admission he liked guys. He knew the trumpet was close with Meg Turney, someone so open and unashamed of her bisexuality. But it didn't stop the 'what if's reeling in his head.

The taller teen seemed to think for a moment, leaning his head back as he sunk into his seat. "Not weird," he decided with a quiet certainty in his voice. "You just have to be prepared to accept that not everyone would be okay with that. People might be willing to try though, depends. I'll assuming you're bringing this up from a position of experience, so I'll just say give a few more months before you make any moves. Dating doesn't have to be a Freshman year thing, especially in a different light like this." Gavin knew if anyone would give him a straight answer it'd be Ryan, no jokes, no dodging. The next question had the Brit sputtering though, "Ray and Michael, eh?" It definitely lightened the mood.

" _Ryan_ ," he sputtered a bit, giving a fake pout. "Like you've never liked a friend, c'mon spill now you've got mine. Is it Turney? She's really sweet looking." Even as the words left his mouth Gavin found a twang of jealousy spark up, confusing him. The Brit knew he wasn't into girls, but Meg, the sweetest clarinet player you could ever meet, was someone who he wanted the attention of. There must be some part of him that just wanted attention, that was what he could tell himself anyway. It was a lot nicer than "selfish prick".

"Oh, no. She's just a friend." Ryan crossed his arms, foot tapping against the floor as he let himself look at Gavin. "I know you can't keep your mouth shut -" Gavin's indignant sputter cut him off briefly and Ryan rolled his eyes. "-  _but_ I'll let you in on it because I've definitely got blackmail over you." The two trumpets broke into laughter at the threat, it wasn't exactly empty but there was something between them, where despite the odds they trusted each other. Of course they were friends, but Gavin never knew how to shut up and sometimes Ryan would threaten too far but in the auditorium whispering to each other while their instruments rested on the floor would be the first place Gavin would feel like he truly had reached an understanding with Ryan.

"Geoff. And Jack." 

Gavin fell silent briefly, the revelation the two of them were in similar situations was comforting at least. Though, unlike Ryan the people he liked didn't seem to be on the verge of a relationship. Anyone who'd seen Jack and Geoff together would ask if they were dating, even though Gavin knew the three of them were close he was pretty sure you couldn't get closer than the flute and trombone. As he furrowed his brows you could almost see the cogs working as he fought to find any collection of words to say. Part of him was sure Ryan wasn't seeking pity and what advice could a Freshman give a Sophomore anyways. So he just settled on a weak, "oh."

Ryan nodded curtly, twisting the baseball cap around on his head, fingers drumming against his knee. The good part of Gavin was revving up, sometimes it was unreachable but now, seeing Ryan like this all instincts that drove him to tease were lost to the wind. Instead he steeled himself, flashing a grin as he hopped up and snatched the Sophomore's hat, minding the trumpets at their feet as he took off, weaving through rows of seats. The scattered clusters of trumpet players didn't bat an eyelash, the Seniors were too exhausted and no one else would care anyways. The Brit squawked, vaulting over a final chair, when he glanced back Ryan was rounding the seat. The older teen shook with laughter as he partially stumbled. They ended up shoulder to shoulder, lying on the hard floor of the stage. Breathless, they found themselves wheezing as Ryan wordlessly snatched his hat back from Gavin, his chest was purely buzzing, every nerve lit up. Somewhere throughout that day Ryan knew, despite the arguing, despite the apparent moodiness Gavin Free was his friend.

"Maybe I should talk to them, you know? They- uh, like get it off my chest?" Though Ryan stumbled through the words he got there, keeping his eyes up at the high ceiling and his voice low. "I don't know if I'm as concerned about the outcome anymore, I, uh, f- like I just hate keeping myself so closed up I think."

* * *

Time had a funny way of acting. Around 10 pm Wednesday Gavin had gotten a text, the buzzing of his phone woke him up. Squinting against the brightness of his screen he felt his heart drop  _for_ Ryan.

 **From: Rye-bread  
** Breaking news. Jack and Geoff went on a date after practice.

The Brit couldn't tell if there was a bite to the words or not - the little "news" quip did give the impression that Ryan was upset. But the Sophomore always seemed to type so stoically that Gavin couldn't properly gauge what he may be feeling. After about two minutes he decided he had to reply, fumbling for anything he could possibly say. Texting was not the easiest thing.

 **To: Rye-bread  
** dyou think youre still gonna tell them??

 **From: Rye-bread  
** Is there a point? Would it make everything weird?

Guilt bit at Gavin's heels as he left Ryan's text unanswered. But in his defense, he had no idea. As the time crept on though he placed a silent bet on the fact Ryan would break and send a late night confession text. Whether it would be a good idea or not would be left unknown until then. Briefly, he considered texting Geoff or Michael, but this wasn't his secret to share, most definitely not with Geoff. The annoying parts of Gavin were mad at Ryan, mad at him for being in this situation, for letting Gavin's mind wander to this situation. All he could think about by 11 pm was Ray with Michael's arm around his shoulder, the two of them laughing as Gavin was left sitting across from them. The most selfish parts of Gavin wanted to tell Geoff, or Jack, for some kind of shitty, petty revenge. 

For now he kept himself in check, eyes stuck on a small spot on his ceiling until he dozed off.


End file.
